Alone
by Sanctuary Dreamer
Summary: Dreams can often bring about memories. Memories that would be better left in the past. Memories that can eat you up inside and never leave you be. And Arthur is forced to face these memories once again. (UsUk) (Quick note, author does not particularly like UsUk)


Dreams are such funny things. They could bring along sweet fantasies, of things that could only exist in a dream. Or they could bring bitter sweet memories of past experiences and allow one to converse with loved ones one last times. And sometimes, they come with the exact opposite sensation. They could bring along the worst of nightmares, subjecting one to awful creatures and demons. But worse case scenario, is when they bring night terrors to your sleeping self. Dreams that bring so much terror, that in cannot all be contained in ones head, forcing the sleeping figure to react in real life, thrashing and crying. Screaming and begging for relief and for it all to end. Tonight brought along such a dream. A dream of the past. Brought right back to the present once more…  
—

Arthur's eyes snapped open. The first thing he noticed, was the pain searing through his body. He moaned and arched his back as he shakily brought his hands to the main source of the pain: his lower abdomen, right next to his hip. His bare hand was instantly greeted with a thick and warm substance. He brought his shaky hand before his eyes to confirm his suspicions. Blood coated his hand and dropped onto his face. He was injured. But how? His eyes moved about, in an attempt to become more aware of his surroundings. He was lying on the hard dirt ground, blood pooling below his hip. A rifle lie at his other side, scratched and empty. And at his other side…was another soldier.

"H-hey.." Arthur whispered out, reaching for the still man. His fingers brushed against the soldiers arm. Almost immediately the man groaned and began to writh.

"My l-leg.." He moaned out, his face pale and sweaty. "Oh god my leg.." Arthur's eyes turned down to look at the man's leg. Or…where it should have been anyhow. One of the soldiers legs had been blown right off and all that was left was a painful looking stump where the leg should have been. "It hurts. Fucking hell it hurts." The man panted, tears pouring from his eyes. He watched as the man strained his head to look down at his leg. And his eyes widened.

"Bloody hell they shot off my leg!" He screamed, arching his back and sobbing. The pain seemed to have escalated ten fold when he realized what had happened. "Oh hell dear god please kill me oh god." He begged, looking to Arthur for any sieve of comfort. Arthur slowly rolled to his side, despite the screaming pain.

"You can't.." Arthur managed. "You have to be brave. Someone's going to come. They aren't just going to leave us here like this. Someone will be here for us and save us. You'll see. I promise. Just be brave." He encouraged. The man stared at Arthur, but curled his lips in slightly and nodded. And there they waited. Waited for someone to come. As they slowly began to bleed out.

'Ah. I'm so tired..' Arthur thought, closing his eyes. 'Surely it will be okay if I rest. Just for a few moments right? Everything is going to be okay.' He could hardly feel the pain anymore, and everything fell silent. Everything was still. And he felt absolutely nothing.

Once he opened his eyes, everything felt different. His neck was stiff and sore, having been still for so long. The sky was grey and rain spilled from the clouds. The tears of Mother Nature, raining down on the dead that lie around him. His wound stung and he felt weak. He moved his arms to try and sit up, but found himself hardly able to move at all. Arthur coughed harshly, and blood spattered from his mouth and all over his chest, nearly making him choke. What had happened? Everything had been okay, and now it seemed as though fate had turned away from him and decided to make everything so much worse. He turned again to look at the soldier without a leg. He was still there, but was very still.

"Hey.." Arthur wheezed, hoping to get his attention. But he got no response. He reached out and nudged him once again like he had before to try and get his attention. His eyebrows raised a bit and he nudged him again. "Hey open your eyes. You can't sleep right now." But still no answer. The man's lips were blue and his skin was an awful shade of white. Arthur blinked a few times. The man had…died?

Had he been forgotten? In the heat of everything that had occurred, had he been forgotten? The field was nearly silent at this point. The only sounds that reached Arthur's ears were the dying moans of the solders around him and the spattering of the rain on the ground. Was he truly going to die alone? His eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. If he was to go out, he wanted to go out with pride. Or, as much as he had left anyhow. Blood stained his uniform and when he coughed, more of the crimson substance burst from his blue tinted lips. 'So this is how it ends…' he thought, almost smiling at the irony of it all. 'Alone in life, and now alone in death. God can be so cruel at times.'

He let his eyes fall shut as memories entered his mind. Memories of young Alfred, whom he loved so much. Ah, well he wasn't exactly young anymore was he? He was a grown man. One who wanted his independence. One who wanted to be his own nation. And he deserved that. He had won after all. Won and left Arthur to die. How awful.

Wait a tad? What was that sound? Something other then the rain had finally reached his ears. A sloshing sound, like someone was walking through the mud. Was someone there? Was someone going to get him? Thank goodness. It was such a relief to know that he wouldn't die here after all. He relaxed and waited. The sound continued to grow closer and closer. And then…it stoped. Right next to his head. But he didn't open his eyes. He just couldn't.

"Arthur." He heard. That voice…it could only belong to one person. And he knew exactly who that person was. He forced his eyes open and looked up. It was him. It was that little boy that he had raised for so long. It was that little boy that wanted to be free. It was the little boy who…wasn't such a little boy anymore.

"Al..fred." Arthur murmured weakly. His vision was blurred from the blood loss and the rain that fell into his eyes. "Please…help me." He pleaded softly. Alfred didn't say anything. Just stared at him with a look of…disappointment was the best way to describe it.

"What happened Arthur? You used to be so strong. And now look at you." Arthur just stared as the tears began to stream down his cheeks. "I'm my own man now Arthur. It's over." He scoffed. "You've become so weak." Alfred turned around then. And he walked away. Not saying another word. Arthur reached out, hoping to stop him.

"Alfred please. Don't leave." He begged. But it was as though Alfred hadn't heard him. He didn't turn around. He didn't acknowledge the dying man. Like Arthur was already dead to him. Arthur's hand fell limply in the mud and his head turned back up to the sky.

'It's over…isn't it?' He thought, letting his tears fall freely. 'I'm dying. And no one will be there to mourn once I'm gone. Perhaps..I truly am so weak. I couldn't even win against a younger nation. I'm not strong enough..to do anything.' His eyes fluttered a bit as his breathing became ragged. 'This is how it's going to end. How fitting..for an old man like myself.' His eyes fell shut and he breathed out a heavy sigh. 'This is it for me…I'm so sorry..' And he breathed his last, there on the muddy field, all alone.

Arthur opened his eyes, dazed and confused. Had he not died? His memory was filled was past and present memories and he slowly blinked, trying to clear his vision. His eyes and cheeks were still wet with tears and his neck was stiff. Something cold rested on his forehead and a soft hand was against his cheek.

"Hey dude. Your awake." He heard. Arthur turned his head to look at who was next to him. His eyes widened a bit. It was Alfred. The one who had just walked away from him. Or..at least he thought he had. But no, he was right there by his side. "You were having a fever dream dude. You okay?" Alfred murmured as he took the cloth off and re-wet it in a small bowl by Arthur's bedside.  
A fever dream? It was just a dream? Oh gosh. Oh gosh it wasn't real. Not at all. Alfred was right there. Right by his side. "Hey are you okay Arthur? Your still crying." He pointed out. Was he? He hadn't realized it, but new tears had formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Arthur chuckled and brought his hand up to rub at his eyes.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He promised. He sniffled and looked up at Alfred. "Say…do you think…that I'm weak?" He asked before he could stop himself. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the question

"Weak? Not at all dude. You're one of the strongest people I know."

"And..you're not going to leave me?"

Alfred stared in disbelief as he held Arthur's hand. "Why would I do that? Of course I'm not going to leave you." He pressed a kiss to Arthur's forehead gently as he continued. "I'm going to stay here. Right by your side, just like I promised you." He said softly, squeezing his hand. Arthur smiled softly, already feeling much better.

"Thank you. Thank you so much Alfred."


End file.
